


Deception

by Eressë (eresse21)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Implied Unrequited Love, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eresse21/pseuds/Eress%C3%AB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, a deception is needed to soothe a weary soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deception

**Author's Note:**

> _I write for the sheer enjoyment of it. Everything else belongs to the master of storytelling, JRR Tolkien._
> 
> This was written upon the request of a friend to pair Legolas with Elrond. It's the _only_ time I ever partnered Legolas with someone else other than Elrohir and I think my discomfort with that showed in my writing and the reason I came up with to justify the pairing.

The Last Homely House, _Narquelië_ T.A. 3018  
Elrond slowly walked down the dim corridor to his bedchamber. Never had he felt so spent as he did now with the Council over and the fate of a single Hobbit inextricably linked with a ring of power. The One Ring.

He sighed as he entered his room. Frodo had offered to take the ring. No one had forced him. But that did not lift the burden that weighed so heavily on the Elvenlord. 

The Halfling would be walking into certain doom and there was nothing Elrond could do to help him save to entreat the Powers to guide him on his way.

He came up short as his eyes fell on the slender figure of an Elf seated upon the divan by the hearth, staring at the dancing fire. It was Legolas. Elrond wondered what the Mirkwood prince was doing in his chamber.

The archer looked somber. There was none of the earlier light spirit he had exhibited despite his distress over the escape of Gollum from the Wood-elves’ custody. But perhaps that was not too surprising. Not when his two closest friends had left Rivendell right after the Council and headed into the wilds with Aragorn.

The prince had bid Elladan and Elrohir a reluctant farewell ere they departed. This would be his first visit to Imladris wherein he would not have the companionship of the twins for an extended period of time. It would be almost two months before the brethren could return to the vale.

“Legolas?” he said tentatively.

The archer looked up apologetically. “Lord Elrond,” he murmured. “Forgive my intrusion. I did not know where to go.”

Elrond understood the sentiment. “You already miss them.”

Legolas nodded. “I had not expected them to leave so suddenly,” he admitted.

Elrond sighed and sank down beside the prince. “Neither did I,” he said. “When they arrived last night, I had hoped it would be to stay for a time.”

“Why did they return?” Legolas asked curiously. “Last I spoke with Elrohir they were not due to come back until next spring.”

Elrond frowned. “They sensed trouble was brewing,” he explained. “They have always had a strong bond with Estel and they felt his distress at its height.”

“When the Hobbit was wounded,” Legolas offered.

“Aye,” Elrond affirmed. “They turned back at once.”

“Only to leave again,” Legolas softly said.

Elrond glanced at him wonderingly. He had not seen Legolas so pensive before. Ordinarily, the woodland prince was such an optimist he was able to find merriment and hope even in the darkest of times. It was this quality that had quickly endeared him to the twins. But this evening, his usual sparkle was diminished.

“What ails you, Legolas?” Elrond quietly inquired.

The archer shrugged. “I could ask the same of you, my lord,” he commented. “You look as if you carry the weight of Arda on your shoulders.”

Elrond shook his head. “I feel as if I do,” he confessed. “I am loathe to let Frodo take this burden upon himself. Would that the One Ring had never come to light again. Accursed creature,” he added under his breath.

“I trust you mean Gollum,” Legolas said with just the faintest trace of humor.

Elrond chuckled wanly and nodded. And then he sighed tiredly and ran his hand carelessly through his dark mane. “Ah, 'tis at times like this that I miss her most.”

“You will be with her again,” Legolas said consolingly.

“If we survive this,” Elrond reminded him. He did as Legolas had done earlier and stared at the flames in the hearth. “I never felt alone when she still abided in Middle-earth. Not even when she was not beside me. We always felt each other’s presence and it comforted us.”

“You are fortunate to have known such a love,” Legolas said. “And will know it once again when this is all over. I envy you.”

Elrond glanced at him in surprise. It was not like Legolas to express a desire for a committed relationship of any kind. The prince had a reputation for concupiscence that exceeded even Elrond’s sons’ and they were not laggards in that area by any means. Though admittedly, despite his numerous conquests, Legolas never spoke of them as such. In fact, he never spoke of them at all and even seemed ill at ease at having any of his trysts uncovered.

Oddly enough, he was as selective in his choice of partners as he was profligate in their numbers. Whether _elleth_ or _ellon_ , old or young, whatever walk of life they came from, all were consistently tall, always dark-haired and invariably grey-eyed. But he never took any more than once. There was never a second time with Thranduil’s son.

Elrond had sometimes wondered about that. Celebrían had once suggested that it was the archer’s way of salving his loneliness without entrusting his heart to any. Elrond was inclined to think his lady wife right. For Legolas kept constant company solely with Elladan and Elrohir and this only when he and the brethren came together. At all other times, it seemed he was always alone.

After a few more snippets of talk, Elrond groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced apologetically at the archer.

“If you do not mind, I would like to get out of these confounded robes and freshen up a bit,” he said. He sighed. “This day feels so much longer than any other I have known.”

Legolas nodded. “By all means, my lord,” he replied. “It has indeed been a long day.”

Elrond gratefully retreated into his bathing chamber. Nearly half an hour passed before he emerged once more, clad only in a robe and bed-trousers. He was taken aback to find Legolas still ensconced in the couch.

“I rather expected you to have left,” he remarked.

Legolas shook his head. “I am restless, my lord. I cannot sleep when I am this unsettled.”

About to say something, Elrond winced as a stiff muscle in his nape made itself known. He grimaced and again rubbed his neck.

“I wonder if it is a function of my mannish ancestry that I should know the ills of aching muscles,” he dryly commented.

Legolas smirked. “Even Elves are susceptible to weariness if pushed too far,” he pointed out. He regarded Elrond with concern. “But you have been pushed further than most, I think. Would you let me help you?”

“Help me in what way?”

“I believe a good massage is the best remedy for sore muscles?” the prince suggested. “Or so Elrohir always tells me.”

Elrond smiled. “And I suppose he taught you how to give one as well.” At the archer’s affirming nod, his smile widened. “Indeed it is. But I can hardly ask that service of you.”

“Nonsense, my lord,” Legolas countered. “Were I in need of such a service, would you refuse me? Now, lie down and let us see how well I learned my lessons.”

Elrond had to chuckle then. The image of his younger son tutoring the woodland prince in so mundane an activity amused him. “Very well,” he acquiesced. “I will entrust myself into your, I hope, capable hands.”

He fetched a bottle of herb-scented oil from his night-table drawer for the archer’s use, shrugged off his robe and obligingly lay belly down on his bed for it was his back that was in most dire need of attention. He felt the bed dip as it took the archer’s slight weight. He grinned sleepily as he listened to the sounds of the bottle being uncorked and Legolas’s rubbing his presumably oiled hands together. And then Legolas placed his hands on his back.

He groaned with relief as the prince proceeded to knead his neck, shoulders and back, his fingers seeking tight muscles and his palms rubbing them with just the right amount of pressure. It seemed Elrohir had done an excellent job of teaching the Wood-elf in this endeavor.

Relaxing under the archer’s undoubtedly skilled ministrations, Elrond turned his face partly into his pillow and let his thoughts drift to other matters. He barely heard the sudden and sharp indrawn breath behind him. He did not truly notice the momentary faltering of his companion’s actions.

Legolas resumed his task. In his listlessness, Elrond became only dimly aware of a slight change in his body’s reactions to the archer’s touch. Unwittingly it seemed, Legolas was putting pressure on places that tended to elicit feelings of a different sort. Elrond caught his breath when the woodland Elf slowly kneaded the base of his spine but with a lightness that induced sensations other than relaxation.

The Elf-lord woozily wondered if he should speak up and inform the prince of his error. And just as woozily, he decided against it. He did not wish to embarrass the archer when the latter was doing his best to tend to his stiff and aching muscles. Even if he was unintentionally causing something else to turn stiff and slightly achy.

Lulled by the potent combination of his weariness and the sensual stirrings Legolas had inadevertently induced, Elrond chose to stay quiet and deal with his unlooked for arousal as best as he could. It was not so great anyway to cause that much discomfort. He would take care of it once the archer was done.

Then Legolas’s hand slipped around his hips and under him to lightly cup him. Stunned, he did not react at once, but stayed immobile in his shock. Pleasure so acute it left him gasping coursed through him. It had been far too long since he’d known a carnal touch from another and his body responded, will he, nill he.

Elrond finally realized what Legolas intended and recoiled from it. Nay! This was not right!

He attempted to roll over, but Legolas did not budge. Alarmed, Elrond looked over his shoulder, eyes wide with consternation.

“Legolas, cease this at once!” he said peremptorily. “Get off me.”

“I think not,” Legolas unexpectedly shot back.

Elrond was shocked when his hands were pinned down and his body trapped beneath the archer’s. And he was astounded by Legolas’s strength. He had never marked it before or expected it, misled into thinking otherwise by the other Elf’s slender build.

“What are you doing?” he hoarsely demanded.

He gasped as he felt his trousers yanked down, baring his backside. Legolas pressed hard against him. Elbereth! The Wood-elf had undone his breeches! To his horror, his body reacted by growing ever more aroused. Too long indeed!

“For the love of Eru, you cannot do this!” he exclaimed. “Let me go, Legolas!”

“Nay, my lord, _you_ need to let go,” the prince growled. “For once, let someone else lead the way.”

Elrond gasped as he was summarily taken. He had not yielded to any since his long ago youth. Indeed, he could no longer remember the last _ellon_ he had lain with for, since he first had her, Celebrían had more than met his body’s every need. But now he could not say no. Could not resist. His leadening lassitude coupled with the unbidden stirrings that the prince had ignited overwhelmed him.

Legolas took control. Of their joining. Of their pace. _Of him._

Completion came with breath-stealing force. Elrond lay panting in its wake, overcome by rapture he had not known since his wife’s last night with him ere she departed for the Havens. He drew a shuddery breath as he became conscious of Legolas’s weight on his back. But before he could speak, the archer rolled off him and swiftly hitched up his trousers. Elrond turned over to stare at him in astonishment.

Legolas had risen to his feet and was quickly lacing up his breeches. He was flushed from his own release, but was remarkably composed for one who had just indulged himself in bed-play. Elrond did not quite know what to feel about the situation.

“I hope I did not hurt you, my lord,” the Wood-elf quietly said, handing Elrond his robe.

Elrond shook his head as he took the garment. “Nay, I am quite undamaged,” he said as he drew it on. “But I cannot pretend that your actions do not shock me.”

“Forgive me then,” Legolas replied. Yet his tone did not seem truly apologetic. “I pray this ... incident will not lower your regard for me.”

Elrond regarded him in increasing puzzlement. He had always found Legolas something of an enigma. This encounter only strengthened this supposition about him. A thought suddenly occurred to Elrond. A discomforting one that he needed to voice at once. He shifted to sit on the side of his bed and face the archer.

“I have known far worse in my life, Legolas,” he said. “While this incident is most unseemly, it is nothing compared to the true evils I have faced.” He warily studied the archer. “But I hope you do not seek more from me,” he hesitantly added. “I can give no more than this for all else is in my wife’s keeping.” He grimaced. “I have transgressed against her as it is.”

Legolas shook his head. “Love had naught to do with what we did. And as for whom to blame for this sin—lay it at my door, my lord,” he said. “I gave you little chance to resist.” He gazed intently at the older Elf. “Still and all, you cannot deny that you needed this release from your woes and worries.”

Elrond considered this statement. It was true. He felt lighter; less weighted down. It was as if the simple act of yielding to another and giving up control even for the space of one coupling had freed his spirit enough to give him renewed vigor and hope. He looked curiously at the prince.

“But you?” he queried. “What did you get out of this? I cannot believe you did this out of desire for an old man.”

Legolas laughed wryly. “You are hardly an old man, Lord Elrond. And no old man I know is as comely as you.” His mirth faded and he gazed at the lore-master somberly. “But you are right in one thing. I had my own needs to look after and I apologize for using you in that manner.”

“Your needs,” Elrond repeated musingly. “Legolas, why me? Indeed, why all the Elves you have taken? I have noticed that we all look much alike in coloring and form.”

Legolas sighed dolefully. “Because you _do_ look alike in coloring and form,” he replied. “I can deceive myself with you.”

“Deceive?”

“Aye, my lord. I can pretend even for a while that I am with the one I do love,” the prince answered. “And cannot have.” He shrugged at Elrond’s bemused stare. “Tonight 'twas a little easier for me to fool myself for your resemblance to him is the most acute of all.” He smiled sadly at the expression of pure amazement that crossed his host’s noble countenance. “Thank you, Lord Elrond, and good night.”

He did not give Elrond a chance to return the greeting but simply slipped out of the room silently. The Elvenlord stared at the door in contemplation.

_The one I do love. And cannot have._

Elrond lay down, his mien thoughtful. Well, whatever motives drove the Wood-elf, one thing remained. He _was_ grateful to Legolas. He had indeed needed this interlude to balm his weary soul. And balm it, the archer had done.

When tomorrow dawned, he would be weary no longer.

*************************  
Glossary:  
Narquelië - Quenya for October  
elleth - Elf-maid  
ellon - male Elf

_Sequel: Deception No More - There comes a time when deception is no longer enough to balm a wounded heart._


End file.
